The Telling Read online

  Her expression would have been comical if he’d had a clue to what she was talking about. Then he looked down and saw two plates sitting in front of him, one completely covered by a three-egg omelet while another bubbled in the pan. He was cooking Jay breakfast without even realizing it. Backpedaling hard, he attempted a recovery. “Damn, I’m sorry, Ang. You’re right, I did forget. Would you like some toast instead?” Holy shit, how could he have been so stupid?

  She joined him by the stove, rising up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “No, but that’s really nice of you. Anyway, what I was saying…” She suddenly leaned in again, her eyes narrowing as she stared at his collar. “Is that…?”

  Before he could stop her she reached over, grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled, the look of wicked glee on her face confirming what she’d seen. “Oh, somebody got lucky,” she sing-songed. “Okay, li’l bro, out with it. Who is she?”

  Right on cue the bedroom door opened and a very handsome, very naked man emerged, rubbing his eyes and murmuring, “Michael?” Jay and Angie saw each other at the same time and froze, while Michael contemplated having the nervous breakdown he’d been building up to all morning. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…

  Angie broke the silence. “Way to go, Mikey,” she crowed, eyes never leaving her roommate. She blatantly looked him up and down. “Nice package, Jay.”

  That broke the spell, and Jay moved so fast that he was there one minute and gone the next, the bedroom door slamming behind him.

  Angie calmly regarded Michael. “You hurt him and I’ll hurt you. If he hurts you, I’ll hurt him.”

  Michael swallowed hard and stared, open-mouthed. You never knew what to expect out of Angie, but he was glad she had his back. Still, his heart hammered inside his chest. “You’re okay with this?”

  He could have counted her teeth, she grinned so wide. “Are you kidding? Mom will be over the moon. However, it does look like I got here a little late for our ‘Jay likes you’ talk. Sorry,” she added, with unnecessary smugness.

  She trailed her fingertips up Michael’s arm and brought them to rest against his cheek. “Just answer me this: is it serious?”

  The cat was out of the bag, he might as well be honest. “It is for me.”

  “And for him?”

  He wished he could answer that Jay felt the same, but he wouldn’t lie to her about such a thing. “We haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet.”

  An elegantly groomed eyebrow arched in surprise. “So, last night was the first time?”

  “Angie, that is sooo not your business.”

  “Just asking.” She raised her hands, palms out. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  Bending to retrieve her purse from the couch where she’d dropped it earlier, she paused for a moment and then exclaimed, “Aha!” She straightened, holding aloft the T-shirt Jay had worn the night before, a triumphant smile on her face. “Well, well, well…what have we here?”

  Grateful he’d tossed his own stained shirt into the laundry minutes before her arrival, Michael held out his hand, waiting for her to relinquish her prize.

  “Spoilsport,” she pouted, handing it over. “Well, my work here is done so I guess I’ll be going.” She flashed him another mirthful grin. “We wouldn’t want Jay’s breakfast to get cold, now would we?” Without a backward glance she turned and let herself out of the apartment.

  As the door closed on her retreating back, Michael heard an ecstatic, “Yes! I knew it!”

  Chapter Twelve

  The bedroom door slowly eased open and Jay peeked out from a two-inch crack. “Is she gone?” How stupid could he be? Walking out naked and getting caught like that, outing Michael in the process?

  Hastily donning his jeans, he waited for the other shoe to fall, for Michael demand that he leave. But the door opened wider and warm hands caressed his bare sides before enfolding him in a tender embrace. Soft lips traced a path up his neck before descending onto his for a chaste kiss. “Good morning, Jay. Did you sleep well?” was breathed against his skin.

  Finding his voice, Jay asked in shaky tones, “Sssooo, you’re not mad?”

  Soft chuckles brushed against his skin, along with the faint rasp of day-old beard. “No, I’m not mad. I wouldn’t have chosen for her to find out that way, but I have to admit that it’s a relief, no longer having to worry about how to tell her.”

  “How’d she take it?”

  Michael’s baby blues twinkled with humor. “Let’s just say that I don’t think Mom’s gonna try to fix you up anymore.” Snagging Jay’s hand, Michael led the way into the kitchen area. “Come on, let’s eat.”

  ***

  Both men had been to that particular house for many a Sunday dinner and normally considered it a treat, but today they were dreading what might happen. Jay was verbally agonizing about being tossed out while facing accusations of corrupting the elderly couple’s only grandson. Michael, though quieter with his misgivings, feared being kicked out of the family after hearing a sermon similar to the one the reverend had delivered on that not-so-long-ago Sunday. But this time the words would have even more impact, delivered by someone whom he loved and respected, who’d be renouncing him from the family.

  Although he loathed the things, Michael took one of the ‘emergency pills’ his doctor had prescribed. Nerves in an uproar, he’d never make it to the car without help. As it was, Jay brought the Tercel to the front of the store, making up the excuse that he was ready to go and Michael wasn’t and pulling the car around would be a time saver. Right.

  Once tucked safely in the vehicle, Jay’s squeezed Michael’s hand, their entwined fingers shifting the gears. If he and Jay were going to see each other, he’d need to tell his grandparents. While Grandma might tend to conveniently ignore things she didn’t want to acknowledge, Grandpa made a point of knowing what was going on with the family and would see through any attempts to hide something of this magnitude. But if nothing was going to develop with Jay, well then, no point in opening that particular can of worms.

  But how could he ask Jay without sounding needy?

  Jay saved him the trouble, voicing Michael’s thoughts. “Do you think you’d like to give it a shot with me? I know you’re not out, but from what I’ve seen you don’t seem entirely opposed the idea. Do you think you’d like to maybe go out?” Jay hastened to add, “…when you’re better, that is. If you’re not comfortable here where you know everybody we could always go out of town.” With a quick glance to his quiet passenger he explained, “I don’t like hiding who or what I am, but I’ve been out for a very long time. I want to get to know you, let you know me. You don’t have to answer right now. I just want you to think about it. We can take things slow.”

  Michael couldn’t fight a relieved smile. “I can’t promise you anything, and I know I’m nobody’s bargain right now, but I think I’d like that.” Actually, he liked the idea a lot. Jay had complimented his cooking over breakfast and jokingly asked, “Can I keep you?” Michael didn’t want it to stay just a joke.

  While Jay appeared cool and confident, a deeply exhaled breath told Michael how nervous he’d been. “That’s good enough for me.” Jay brought their joined hands up to his mouth and planted a kiss on the back of Michael’s hand, sealing the deal. “Will your mom and sister tell your grandparents?”

  Michael had every confidence that the women wouldn’t disclose information that was his to share; however, they could be smugly annoying until he did make the information public, at least to the family, anyway. To their way of thinking, if you weren’t a blood relative, what went on in their family was none of your business. Furthermore, they would never do anything to hurt him. With a fair amount of certainty he answered, “No.”

  “Will you tell them?”

  Michael couldn’t help noticing the hopeful look in his lover’s eyes. “Do you want them to know?”

  Jay paused before answering. “Not if it’s going to upset them or put a strain on your relationship. B
ut I gotta tell ya, I personally don’t care who knows. I’m tickled to death, though I’ll understand if you want to keep it quiet. It is okay if I tell my folks, right?”

  That was something Michael had never even considered. “How do you think they’ll take it?”

  Jay grinned, all confidence returned. “They came to terms with my being gay a long time ago and they’ll be happy for me. Although, I might have to keep my eye on you around my Aunt Angelica, she likes big blond men.”

  “Well, it just so happens that I like dark skin, eyes, hair, and a smooth Texas drawl.” Michael lifted his chin and glanced at Jay a bit sideways. Flirting? I’m flirting? Damn this feels good.

  “I think I know someone who fits that description.”

  “Not your Aunt Angelica, I hope.”

  Wrinkling his nose, Jay replied, “Nah, Aunt Angelica is a gringa from my mom’s side of the family. Pale skin, red hair, smokes, drinks, and cusses like a sailor.” He winked at Michael, who jumped away in mock horror, forming a cross with his fingers and brandishing them as if warding off bloodsucking fiends.

  “Then by all means, keep an eye on me around your aunt.”

  Jay’s laughed, deep and throaty, like a discreet grope in a public place—exciting and erotic. “Don’t worry, Querido, I will. How do you think your grandparents are going to react?” Worry replaced the sunny smile.

  Michael sighed and rubbed his free hand through his hair. “I have no idea.” Wait a minute. What had Jay just called him? “Why did you call me ‘Querido’?”

  They pulled into the yard of the white frame farmhouse. Jay killed the engine. “Well, I didn’t know how you’d react to ‘baby’, ‘darling’, or ‘studmuffin’, so I use an endearment that I’ve heard since I was a child.”

  “So it’s Spanish?”

  Jay nodded. “Yes, it’s actually what my mother calls my father. She got it from my grandmother. If you don’t like it… “

  “No, it’s not that, I’d just never heard it before, is all, and wondered what it meant.”

  “It means ‘beloved,’” Jay said, releasing Michael’s hand to exit the vehicle, leaving a shocked Michael to contemplate those words. Beloved?

  Michael got out and joined Jay, mulling that word over in his mind like a mantra. Beloved, beloved, beloved. Together they crossed the yard and climbed the steps, pausing to gaze at each other for a long moment before Michael took a deep breath and opened the door. Here goes nothing…

  They followed the smell of roast beef down the long hallway that led from the front porch to the back, stopping briefly in the bathroom to wash their hands and exchange a quick kiss behind closed doors.

  “Ready?” Michael asked.

  “As I’ll ever be,” replied Jay.

  The last door on the right opened into a sunlit kitchen, in stark contrast to the darkness of the windowless hallway. A fond smile greeted them.

  They leaned in and each kissed a wrinkled cheek, saying, “Hi, Grandma!”

  “Hello, boys,” the elderly woman greeted. “How are you this sunny Sunday?”

  “Fine, Grandma,” they answered.

  She narrowed her eyes and looked them up and down. “You boys wash your hands?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Grandma pointed toward the stove. “I hope you’re hungry, I made pot roast with all the trimmings. Here, make yourselves useful. “ She handed Jay a pot of steaming green beans and Michael an oblong glass dish filled with potatoes, then shooed them in the direction of the dining room.

  Michael’s mother, grandfather, and sister were already seated at the table, chatting quietly.

  “Hey, you’re just in time,” Gramps remarked, beckoning them to sit.

  Michael and Jay dropped down, side by side, into the chairs they had occupied the last time they’d both been at that table, and Grandma Eileen placed more bowls on the table before taking her place at the end. The family joined hands and Gramps blessed the food.

  Michael could feel eyes on him even before he heard, “Amen.” He opened his eyes to find a grinning Angie.

  Apparently, his sister couldn’t wait to share the news, as Michael’s mom was smirking over her coffee cup. Oh well, he’d expected them to share information, and trusted them not to make any announcements before he had a chance to talk to Grandpa. They could still be annoying, though.

  Dinner was a lively affair, everyone taking the opportunity to catch up on what all the others had been doing. Jay sat beside Michael once again, but this time he seemed to enjoy the meal more, eating heartily, smiling, and talking. He also brushed his hand against Michael’s thigh under the guise of wiping his fingers on the napkin draped across his lap.

  Michael carefully schooled his features to keep those moments private but, truth be told, after last night and then the conversation they’d had on the way over, he had to practice restraint to keep from acknowledging how happy he was and why. Watching from the corner of his eye, he waited, and when Jay’s hand made its next ‘accidental’ pass over his thigh he briefly caught a little finger with his own, giving a gentle squeeze.

  After dinner the men normally retired to the living room to watch television while the women cleaned the kitchen. Jay stayed behind to help, allowing Michael some time alone with his grandfather. Talk spread fast in a small town, and anyone seeing Jay and Michael together might spread rumors. Best to tell Grandpa the truth now.

  The NASCAR race started and several times Michael tried to begin a conversation, only to be interrupted by, “Did you see that?”, and “Hey, watch where you’re going!” or “You call yourself a driver?” Michael shut up and waited for a commercial.

  When the first advertisement began he tugged the remote from his Grandpa’s hand, muting the TV. “Gramps? Can we talk?”

  The old man glanced between the now-silent television and Michael, as though unable to figure out why the noise had stopped or when Michael had appeared beside him on the couch. Understanding settled over his features and he suddenly seemed to realize where he was and what was happening. “Sure, son,” he replied. “I’m all ears.” He reached into his ear and adjusted the volume on his hearing aid. “Shoot.”

  “Well, Grandpa; it’s like this,” Michael began. Somehow all of his well-rehearsed words flew out the window, reminding him of just how terrible he was at self expression. Maybe he should have sent Angie instead. That girl had no problem at all getting her point across. Oh, well, I’m the one here, it’s my secret to tell, and I need to be a man about it.

  To his patiently waiting grandfather he said, “You know about Jay, right?”

  Momentary confusion crossed his grandfather’s wrinkled face before it relaxed into a look of comprehension. “Sure I do. Ain’t like it’s no secret around here. I mean, it’s so obvious. Anyone looking at him could tell.”

  Wow. Gramps never even batted an eye. Maybe this was going to be easier than previously expected. “And you’re okay with it?”

  Gramps made a shooing motion with his hands. “What’s there to be okay with? That’s the way he is and there’s nothing can be done about it. It ain’t like the boy can change now, can he?”

  Well, now. That was certainly unexpected. “Gramps, you’re amazing, you know that?”

  He wasn’t sure if the wrinkled, age-spotted skin was still capable of a blush, but could have sworn the man reddened at the compliment. Things were going so great. Better even than when he’d talked to his mother. Finally, in true Michael Ritter fashion, he opened his mouth and blurted the first thing that came to mind, “So, it doesn’t bother you that I’m like Jay?”

  His grandfather stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “But you ain’t Mexican.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gramps thought he meant Jay’s heritage?

  So much for him making this easy. But it’s nice to know that the color of Jay’s skin isn’t a problem.

  He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled—an exercise a counselor had taught him to help with anxiety. As
it was, he wouldn’t be this calm if it hadn’t been for the medication he’d taken earlier. “Only for emergencies,” his counselor instructed. Coming out to his grandfather had to count.

  Closing his eyes, he revisited the old fishing hole he’d so loved as a kid. The Michael in his memory picked up a flat rock and skipped it across water, breathing deeply of the phantom honeysuckles that flourished, without dying, in his sweetest memories. Then he smiled, calm and somewhat relaxed. He opened his eyes to find his grandfather waiting.

  “I wasn’t talking about his ancestry, Grandpa,” Michael said.

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  Damn. So this really wasn’t going to be easy after all. He should have expected as much. “I’m talking about his orientation, Gramps. You do know he’s gay, right?”

  The old man sighed. “I was afraid you’d bring that up sooner or later.”

  “You do know, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to ignore, especially when I send him to town in my truck to buy feed and six people call asking what that ‘faggot’ is doing in my pickup. You know how people are.” Gramps shrugged. “Some folks ain’t got no manners and never learned to mind their own business.”

  His grandfather leaned in, staring him pointedly in the eyes. “But not a doggone one of those people called to check on me and Eileen when my back went out, and not a one of them offered to lend a hand. The only help we got was your mama, your sister, that ‘Mexican faggot,’ as they call him, and all the friends he and Angie brought with ‘em. They got the hay in, tended the crops, and picked apples until I was up and around again. So those old busybodies’ words don’t hold a bit of weight with me. A man’s actions prove who he is.”

  His sermon delivered, Gramps collapsed back onto the couch, wearing a look that dared anyone to naysay him now that he’d spoken his mind.